


touch me slowly, take me under

by sheets_theghost



Series: domesticus [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, But mostly porn, M/M, Moving In Together, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, idk how to tag, kinda vaguely fluffy, shenanigans ensue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:26:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9657401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheets_theghost/pseuds/sheets_theghost
Summary: really just after jack and rhys have moved in together and some gay stuff happens idk how to summarize that properly





	

**Author's Note:**

> lame af title is lame af sorry not sorry it's from breathe by of verona
> 
> okay seriously i actually only read over this once, and i was skimming, sooo any spelling/grammatical errors are entirely my fault  
> i wrote this in my phone notes in like 3 days don't judge me  
> also i've always been awful at writing smut (and writing in general) so i'm sorry about my shitty writing skills  
> also also i've never written anything for rhack so i apologize for any oocness

Rhys literally cannot believe Jack right now. Actually, _scratch that_ because yes, he can. 

After an endless span of exhausting days and countless hours of moving cardboard box after cardboard box, Rhys and Jack have finally moved into their new house. A house they can share, at last, until–well, until Jack gets bored and wants a new, better one, of course.

Moving everything had ultimately taken a while, considering Rhys thought it would be a fantastic idea to move everything themselves instead of hiring actual professionals. (Rhys regrets his decisions on that one.) And so, the two have tiredly settled on the floor amidst the chaos of boxes and unorganized furniture in their what-would-soon-be living room. Rhys can feel the absolutely agonizing way his bones ache, but he remembers that it's worth it, that he gets to spend his every waking moment in a house Rhys can call their _home_. (And seeing Jack be so awfully domestic will certainly be a sight to behold.)

Rhys lets out a soft sigh after a while of exhausted silence, sitting upright from where his body has been stretched along the wood flooring (not very comfortable, by the way) and pulls a small box in front of him to check what's inside. Rhys tilts his head and internally curses at the other man's inability to write the box's contents on the outside in permanent marker like Rhys had done. His attempt at taking inventory is thwarted when Jack suddenly crowds into Rhys's space and presses his lips against Rhys's exposed throat to leave fluttering kisses along the length of it.

"Jack, seriously?" All Rhys really wants right now is to maybe unpack a little and take a hot, much-needed shower, then collapse onto something soft so he can sleep for about a week.

"Yeah, seriously," Rhys can feel Jack grinning against the expanse of his neck. A light shiver runs down his spine when Jack moves up to his ear to whisper, "C'mon, kiddo, we can break the bed in."

Rhys promptly erupts into soft laughter in response because they haven't even put their bed frame together; it's propped up in several different pieces along the wall of the master bedroom. And he tells Jack this, which earns him a groan and an exaggerated eye roll when Jack pulls away from Rhys's neck. There really is no pleasing the man.

"And I don't actually think that's the rule for new houses, anyway," Rhys adds when Jack begrudgingly sits back down in front of him.

Jack glances over his shoulder at their reclining sofa which is currently in two separate halves, probably wondering how quickly it could be put back together just so he could get Rhys naked on it. Rhys idly watches in amusement as Jack consecutively flops back onto the floor dramatically with an exaggerated sigh, then immediately springs back up with a low groan when he hits his head. Jack glares down at the wooden flooring, holding and rubbing at the back of his skull. "Remind me again, exactly why we had to take apart every single piece of furniture we own?"

Rhys laughs again, trying once more to get into the box that Jack had nudged away from him. "It makes it easier to move everything, Jack."

The man groans out a noncommittal noise, then turns to make a face at the couch like it had personally offended him. Rhys takes pity on him, rolling his eyes and pushing the box aside once again to sidle up to Jack on his hands and knees. Taking Jack's distracted face into his hands, he tugs Jack toward him to press their lips together, and just like that, the older man is content. Until he wants more, which he makes perfectly clear when he moves to edge Rhys's body back down onto the floor. Just like Jack to do that while Rhys is preoccupied. 

Rhys doesn't forget how tired he is, how terribly sore his muscles are, but he chooses to focus on Jack's lips instead, and when Jack pulls away to suck a bruise into the skin of Rhys's collar bone, Rhys raggedly sighs, "I can't believe I'm letting you do this."

Which, in all honesty, is not very true. Rhys can _definitely_ believe he's letting Jack do this because despite how much Rhys would like to start unpacking their things as soon as possible, he also wants Jack too badly now to refuse him. And that is why he lets Jack settle between his legs, lets his own hands roam over Jack's broad shoulders as he brings them up to tangle his fingers in Jack's hair.

Jack's own hands are skimming their way up under Rhys's t-shirt now, his abdominal muscles quivering beneath the light touches. Rhys releases a soft sigh, reveling in the faint caressing of Jack's fingers, and he lets his eyes close when Jack's mouth mimics the same path his fingers had taken, eventually meeting back up with Rhys's own lips. Rhys's body feels like it's been set on fire and he can't decide whether it's from Jack or his body flat-out protesting because it's exhausted. He also can't decide if he wants Jack to just hurry and get on with it so he can get some sleep, or if he wants to lie back and actually enjoy this for a moment.

He decides on the former (of both debates), the subtle warmth of arousal already settled low in his gut. Rhys lets out a restless sound when Jack's fingers obviously avoid where Rhys really wants them and Jack chuckles at his annoyance.

"Eager, aren't we, kiddo?" Rhys knows the older man is grinning, even with his eyes closed.

"More like impatient. C'mon Jack, this was your idea," Rhys trails off at that, opening his eyes to see that Jack is, in fact, grinning like a madman just as he had thought. Jack doesn't respond, however, simply— _finally_ —lets his fingers rove over the waistband of Rhys's jeans, thumb and forefinger moving to unbutton and unzip them with ease. 

Rhys takes it upon himself to tug off his t-shirt, then moving to do the same to Jack's. He tosses both garments over somewhere in the maze of boxes, and Jack's is pulling Rhys's jeans down along with his boxers.

Jack pulls back to take in the sight of Rhys naked beneath him and looks like he wants to get his hands on Rhys everywhere possible. Instead, he grimaces when he notices Rhys's ridiculous socks still on his feet. The older man practically yanks the striped things off all offended-like, throwing them back behind himself in victory. Now Rhys is sockless, Jack can get back to business.

Jack's mouth is the first thing that reaches Rhys's newly exposed skin, kissing and sucking dark bruises wherever he sets his sights on first. Rhys's mouth is forming quiet little whining noises that he would rather deny ever making, his fingers entwining themselves in the the other man's hair. Then Jack's hand is wrapping around his cock and Rhys moans out a desperate sound.

And then Rhys remembers something.

"J-Jack, wait." The man in question stops what he's doing and glances up at Rhys inquisitively, one eyebrow arched.

"We kinda need uh, lube..and stuff," Rhys mumbles, looking away from him. Jack only groans his annoyance in response at first, but then wordlessly gets up out of the floor to go to their bedroom. He's gone for a few moments, and Rhys can hear him cursing as he rummages through the boxes in there, but he eventually returns to Rhys, wiggling the lube at him like it's some sort of prize.

Rhys rolls his eyes and then Jack is making quick work of his own jeans, tossing them and his belt to the side and out of the way. He moves to settle between Rhys's spread legs, getting into the best position to make use of his fingers. Rhys hears the click of Jack opening the lube, then watches as he slicks up his fingers. 

Jack grins at him, says, "You know the drill, kitten," and Rhys tries to relax as much as possible so Jack can ease the first finger into him. Relaxing isn't hard, considering how tired he is under all the desire, and he encourages Jack further when he subsequently goes to wedge in a second finger.

Rhys's hips make experimental little thrusts back against Jack's fingers, getting himself accustomed to the feeling. He lets out a stuttering groan of the older man's name when Jack's fingers make a particularly amazing-feeling movement, scissoring and curling around inside of him.

Rhys is begging for a third in no time, and Jack obliges, carefully working another finger in beside the others. Rhys wills himself not to tense up, and succeeds for the most part. Jack keeps his fingers still until Rhys gives him the go-ahead, then begins moving his fingers again. Jack moves his unoccupied hand to wrap around Rhys's dick in an attempt to keep his mind off of the stretch. He's already leaking and at this point—he feels like he could come just from this alone. He tells Jack as much between soft moans.

Rhys wasn't aware that he'd closed his eyes again, but he opens them when Jack eventually pulls his fingers out, removing his body completely from Rhys's to find where he had laid the lube down earlier. Jack lets out a quiet 'ha!' in triumph when he finds it, and uncaps it to slick himself up.

Rhys is suddenly remembering how uncomfortable this wooden flooring is, how much more sore he'll be feeling tomorrow. Then he ultimately decides 'fuck it' (pun probably intended), and leans up to press a desperate kiss against Jack's lips when the man moves to line himself up with Rhys's hole.

Rhys tries not to think too much of the slight burn when Jack starts to slowly inch himself in, tries to drown himself in Jack's kisses instead. After what feels like an eternity, Jack lets out a low groan when he's finally fully inside Rhys. The younger man detaches their lips with a sigh, reclining flat on his back on the floor.

Rhys makes a few cautious movements against the other man's dick, Jack's thumbs rubbing soothing circles along the sharp jut of his hipbones. Rhys waits for the pain to subside, imagining the pleasure to come, and he gasps when one of Jack's hands finds itself slowly stroking along his cock.

"O-Okay, I'm good. You can–" Rhys trails off, sighing when Jack runs a finger over the tip of his cock. Jack doesn't say anything, just nods, and carefully pulls out. Rhys lets out an involuntary whine at the sudden emptiness, but then Jack thrusts back in, and Rhys revels in the absolute fullness it brings.

After a few heedful thrusts, Rhys is writhing against Jack's body, already begging for him to go faster, to fuck him harder. And Jack gives him what he asks for, hands gripping at Rhys's hips, anchoring him down against the floor.

" _Fuck_ , cupcake, you feel so good" Jack groans out, setting a steady pace. Rhys feels like the nickname should really put him off, but it only makes his body feel that much more hotter, arousal spiking at every nickname Jack gives. His legs have wrapped around Jack's waist, ankles locked to keep him in place, like Jack would leave him like that. (He would, actually, Rhys thinks.)

Jack's busies his mouth with the abused stretch of skin at Rhys's neck, moaning out expletives when he can't muffle them. Rhys can't tell who's being louder anymore. He would bet on himself, though, especially when Jack hammers right into his prostate and Rhys lets out a shout. He swears he's seeing stars and his eyes clench shut.

Rhys's hips are moving in earnest now, meeting Jack's at every thrust, and he arches his back even more each time his prostate is hit. He lets out a loud moan mixed between curses and Jack's name, feeling the heat inside him reach it's high and he's suddenly coming, tossing his head back. Jack's hand meets the back of his head before it hits the floor and Rhys would laugh at the endearment if his body wasn't convulsing in violent shuddering.

Jack's own orgasm follows not too long after with a low groan, and Rhys absentmindedly runs his hands through the older man's hair, whispering broken encouragements to him. Jack's fingers are pressing so hard into his hips, Rhys is sure they'll leave bruises and Jack practically collapses against him, panting into the spot where Rhys's neck and shoulder meet. Rhys wills his breathing to return to normal, fingers still roving through Jack's hair as Jack catches his breath.

Rhys sighs as he's brought back to reality, the blissful aftermath already gone. "We still have to put the bed together."

Jack lets out an exhausted laugh against his skin, finally pulling away from the younger man. He lets Jack lock their lips together lazily, then Jack eventually gets up to find where they'd disposed of their respective clothing. Rhys lets his eyes close and is actually starting to nod off when he's rudely startled when Jack tosses a pillow and blanket down at him.

"Get up, we're sleeping right damn here, pumpkin," Jack says, already spreading out their thick comforter down on the floor. Rhys snorts in laughter but moves so Jack can finish, throwing a ridiculous amount of pillows at the top of the blanket.

Jack flops face first onto the blanket when he's done and Rhys joins him after rolling his eyes and grabbing the other blanket Jack had brought to cover up with. Jack is already asleep by the time Rhys settles against his side, bringing the blanket up around their shoulders. Then Rhys finally lets sleep take him, tucking his face against Jack's naked shoulder.

They may not have gotten anything done today, unpacking-wise, but Rhys is sure they'll have quite some time to get their home perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on tumblr @sheets-theghost if u rly wanna i guess??


End file.
